Security Blanket
by CaringIsNotAnAdvantage
Summary: After a few weeks of casual dating, Gregory invited Mycroft upstairs for a drink. Just as the quiet began to feel stifling, Gregory piped up. "What's the deal with that umbrella of yours, then?" He teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I've never seen you without it. Has it got a weapon? Sword stick or a gun maybe? Can you use it to fly like Mary Poppins?"


**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own any of these characters, obviously._

_A/N: Just a short fic written by request for my friend and beta, gryphin31's birthday! She asked for fluffy Mystrade involving the umbrella. This is my first time writing fic in a year, and my first time ever writing fic about a ship! Thanks for reading!_

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**Security Blanket**

Lestrade took a deep breath as the discreet black car came to a stop outside his building. He turned to the man beside him before he could talk himself out of it, the supple leather of the back seat squeaking beneath his worn trousers.

"Fancy a drink?" Greg asked softly, aiming for casual and hoping his ever-observant companion would be kind enough not to notice his uncertainty.

On the other side of the car, Mycroft fiddled absently with the smooth handle of his umbrella, his eyes fixed on the indents the metal tip left in the vehicle's plush flooring. A quick glance at his PA in the front seat confirmed that he was, indeed, free to have a drink with the handsome DI if he wished, and so he cleared his throat with a nod.

"That would be lovely." Mycroft agreed, lifting his gaze just in time to watch a warm grin spread across the rugged features that he had admired ever since the charming detective inspector had worked his way into Sherlock's life, and by extension, Mycroft's.

Gracefully exiting the car, Mycroft smoothed the imaginary wrinkles in his impeccable suit and dismissed his driver with a quick hand motion. He followed Lestrade up the steps to his flat without a word, quietly admiring the way the street light reflected in the shorter man's silver hair.

It seemed odd to the auburn-haired politician that he should suddenly be nervous around Lestrade-no, not Lestrade, he reminded himself. Gregory. Their acquaintanceship had ceased its business-like aspect some weeks ago, when the detective inspector had taken a leap by observing that their meetings rarely focused on Sherlock anymore, and that perhaps they should simply call them dates instead. He'd then had the gall to laugh at Mycroft's ensuing period of speechlessness.

Since Gregory's...surprising...suggestion, they had both found time in their busy schedules for several outings, no longer with the premise of discussing Mycroft's wayward little brother. It had been the unspoken agreement between the two men to start slowly, a trial period of sorts, to see if their mutual attraction would lead them into a stable relationship or not. To date they had enjoyed four wonderful dinners in places ranging from the formal restaurant Mycroft often used to wine and dine difficult politicians to the pub down the street Lestrade frequented to watch football with some mates from work.

As each man had stepped further from his comfort zone, they became more comfortable with one another, so that by tonight is had felt natural to greet one another with a chaste kiss, for Gregory to lead his slender companion into the restaurant by the hand, and for Mycroft to gently rest his hand on Gregory's knee as they chatted over steaks. Now it appeared that Gregory was once again taking the leap, prolonging their date beyond their typical farewell outside the DI's building and inviting him into his home.

* * *

"Make yourself at home." Gregory smiled, locking the door behind them before reaching for Mycroft's coat and raising an eyebrow at the elegant hand still tightly gripping an umbrella handle.

"Expecting rain?" He teased with a gentle smile. "It may not be as posh as you're used to but I promise I've got a roof to keep you dry." Gregory chuckled as he watched his companion's fair skin turn slightly pink.

"Of course." Mycroft murmured demurely, turning swiftly and placing his umbrella beside Gregory's near the door and following him into the kitchen of the small but quaint flat.

"Take a seat." Gregory called from where he was rummaging through his refrigerator. Mycroft did so, settling onto a kitchen chair and politely averting his eyes from the other man's arse as Gregory straightened up, a beer clutched triumphantly in his fist.

"Sorry, I've only got beer in here." Greg smirked knowingly at his date's slightly guilty expression. "I've probably got something more to your liking in the-"

"I have had beer before, Gregory." Mycroft interrupted with a playful smile. "I think I'll survive."

"If you say so." Grey conceded doubtfully, opening the beer in his hand and presenting it to the politician. The simple glass bottle looked incredibly out of place in the hands of the man in the sleek three piece suit, but Mycroft took a large, confident swallow under his companion's daring gaze.

Gregory threw back his head and laughed, as Mycroft failed to suppress his grimace. "Don't be ridiculous," he joked, leaning in to steal the bottle back with a quick kiss to Mycroft's cheek, "I've got a bottle of wine in the pantry. Just let me grab it."

* * *

After drinks had been secured, the pair moved to the living room where, after a bit of adjustments and uncertainty, they settled on opposite ends of the worn out sofa, Greg's socked feet resting lightly in Mycroft's lap.

"Oi!" Greg exclaimed, squirming when Mycroft pressed a thumb against the arch of his foot. "Knock it off you git! I'm ticklish as hell!" The other man met Gregory's daring stare for a moment before moving his hand to the safety of an ankle and hiding a smile in his glass of wine.

Lestrade relaxed back against the cushions with a contented sigh. "So tell me something about yourself." He requested, bringing his beer to his lips for a swig not noticing how his companion's pale blue eyes tracked the movement.

"What would you like to know?" Mycroft responded smoothly. "There's very little to tell that you haven't already heard, I assure you."

"Now we both know that's a load of crap." Greg teased. "Come on, it's only fair. Between your deductions and background checks you've known practically everything about me since day one. So tell me something you don't tell most people. What did you do as a kid? Any pointless hobbies?"

Mycroft took another slow drink for his glass before responding. "I looked after Sherlock, mostly. Played the piano when Mummy insisted. I began teaching myself languages when I was ten, if that counts. I knew five by the time I was thirteen."

"Impressive," Gregory conceded with a smile, "but not exactly useless if you use it for work, which I know you do."

"I suppose just looking after Sherlock, then." Mycroft declared with a wry smile.

"Oh, come off it." Greg snorted in disbelief. "You don't actually believe that. You're a good brother. Lord only knows where the poor sod would be if it weren't for you." He added softly, knowing how much Mycroft cared about his brother and how difficult it could be to deal with Sherlock's unique way of expressing brotherly affection. Mycroft thanked him quietly, his smile small but sweet, and then both men lapsed into silence.

Just as the quiet began to feel stifling, Gregory piped up again. "What's the deal with that umbrella of yours, then?" He teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I've never seen you without it. Has it got a weapon? Sword stick or a gun maybe?" He continued as he saw Mycroft's expression lighten and his stiff shoulders begin to relax. "Can you use it to fly like Mary Poppins?"

"Oh, hush you." Mycroft grinned. "Don't be ridiculous. It does rain in London, you know. One can never be too prepared." The politician chuckled at Gregory's dubious expression.

"Oh if you insist. It's had a number of uses over the years, I suppose. I started carrying it when I was new to a government position and was doing primarily legwork." Gregory rolled his eyes at his exaggerated grimace at the mention of the word.

"I'd injured my leg on a job, and I thought it best not to use a cane during my recovery. In my profession it is far better to appear eccentric than to appear weak. When I'd healed I kept it out of habit. My security team installed a tracking device in it to help them find me should I...become lost."

Here Gregory's expression darkened slightly as he grasped the implication of Mycroft's words, but the other man was quick to wave away his concern. "It's never needed to be used, of course, but it is nice to know it's there."

"So it's like your security blanket!" Greg exclaimed, suppressing an unmanly giggle and setting aside his drink, thinking he'd probably had enough.

Mycroft rolled his eyes with a huff of laughter. "I would hardly phrase it that way, though it is essentially correct. I've also found it's a very useful distractor. It's much easier to hide any tells I might have while lying if I have a large object to gesture with, inevitably drawing attention away from my face."

Lestrade chuckled. "So I'll always know when you're lying to me because you'll start waving your umbrella in my face, is that it?"

Mycroft's face darkened. "I'm afraid it's not so simple as that, Gregory." He leaned earnestly towards his reclining companion, squeezing his ankle reassuringly at the now concerned look on his face. "I wish that I could promise that I will never lie to you, but unfortunately my job makes that a promise I would be unable to keep. However, if you like, I can promise you this: in my profession, I have learned a thousand ways to lie and a thousand ways to manipulate. I know countless ways to force a man to tell me the truth and to bend him to my will, but I swear to you Gregory, that I will never use that knowledge against you."

Greg was still for a moment, taking in Mycroft's imploring face, as well as the gravity of all that he had said, the playful and easygoing mood vanishing completely. He thought perhaps he should be frightened by what Mycroft was telling him, he didn't doubt for a second that it was true. Yet while he believed that this man had all of the power and ability he had described, he also trusted him, wholeheartedly. Sitting up without a word, Gregory leaned forward and took Mycroft's hand, rewarding his honesty and his promise with a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"That's a very serious promise." Gregory murmured as he pulled back, smiling softly up at Mycroft. "I know we've kept things very casual and slow up until now, but is that what you'd like to be now, Mycroft? Serious?" Greg held his breath as he waited for Mycroft's answer, praying it would match his own. He had understood the necessity to start slow, but he was more than ready to fully commit himself to the gorgeous man beside him. He just hoped Mycroft felt the same.

Clearly deep in thought, Mycroft pulled back a few inches, looking down at where Gregory was clasping one of his hands. Covering the other man's hand with his free one, Mycroft took a deep breath and replied.

"You know that I have very little experience in these sort of matters, and I've been immensely grateful for your patience with me." Mycroft lifted his eyes to search Greg's face quickly. Relieved by the calm encouragement he saw in his companion's warm, dark eyes, he continued.

"I find that I remain...unsure as to how to define our relationship. I've heard many definitions for affectionate relations between two men, even experienced a few, but all seem to trivial and childish for what I wish to share with you. I cannot guarantee that I will ever excell at this relationship, but I wanted you to know that whatever we are, I am yours."

Gregory's breath left him in a rush at Mycroft's words. Beaming, he leapt to close the distance between them. Greg wrestled his hands free from Mycroft's to cup his clean shaven cheeks, chuckling when Mycroft's long nose bumped his, and directing the kiss until their lips settled together comfortably. Mycroft responded hesitantly for a moment, before settling his hands on Gregory's hips and reciprocating with equal enthusiasm.

* * *

Some time later, Greg pulled back with a final nip to his partner's lip to catch his breath. Grinning at Mycroft, he eagerly took in the other man's disheveled appearance. His normally impeccable red hair was sticking up from Gregory's hands running through it, his fair skin pinkened from Greg's rough stubble. His chest heaved with breaths just as the silver haired man's did, and his lips curved into a matching grin.

Greg leaned back in, pressing a succession of quick kisses to Mycroft's soft lips. "Stay the night?" He murmured against his lover's mouth. Mycroft groaned, pulling his mouth away to bury his face when Greg's neck and shoulder met. "Sorry," the shorter man laughed, "that's too fast, isn't it."

"What that is," Mycroft mumbled, his voice muffled against Gregory's skin, "is incredibly tempting." He pressed a quick kiss to the stubbled chin before him before pulling back completely.

"As much as I would like to take you up on that offer, my dear, I'm afraid I should take my leave. I've got an early meeting tomorrow." Gregory could see Mycroft pulling himself together, both physically and emotionally. "It appears your virtue is safe for the time being." He smirked.

Greg snorted, bumping Mycroft's shoulder with his own before standing and pulling the other man to his feet. He led the politician slowly to the door, stopping him to steal kisses along the way, eager to prolong their time together.

Finally, they had reached the door and Mycroft had retrieved his coat. Greg clutched the lapels of the expensive overcoat and drew Mycroft in for soft, slow kisses until Mycroft sighed softly and pulled back once again.

"I really do need to go." He said regretfully. "The car's been waiting outside for ten minutes, and you have work early just as well as I."

"Alright, alright." Greg conceded with a chuckle. "I suppose I'll let you go this time. Ring me tomorrow?"

"Certainly." Mycroft pecked him quickly on the lips once more. "I'll see you very soon Gregory." He promised, turning sharply and striding out into the rain before he could be distracted again.

Greg smiled softly to himself, watching as the man he was quickly becoming incredibly fond of climbed into the back of the waiting black car and drove away. Locking the door and turning back to the now-empty flat, Gregory tipped his head back and laughed.

The silly sod had left his umbrella.

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